about it many times, but we were sure to want our memories refreshed; so we
would sit on a stool at his feet or climb upon his knee, while he told us
this story:--

"My grandfather, George Hobbs, was one of the pioneers of the Kennebec
Valley. He had an indomitable will, and was the kind of man needed to
subdue a wilderness and tame it into a home. He was a Revolutionary
pensioner, having enlisted when only twelve years of age. He was too young
to be put in the ranks, and was made a waiter in camp. When I was a boy, I
can remember that he drove twenty miles, once a year, to Augusta, Maine's
capital, to draw his pension. Snugly tucked under the seat of his sleigh
was a four-gallon keg and a box. The keg was to be filled with Medford rum
for himself, and the box with nuts and candy for his grandchildren. After
each meal, as far back as father could remember, grandfather had mixed his
rum and water in a pewter tumbler, stirred in some brown sugar with a
wooden spoon, and drunk it with the air of one who was performing an
unquestionable duty.

"Grandfather was a ship-carpenter by trade, and therefore in this new
country was often employed to frame and raise buildings. Raisings were
great social events. The whole neighborhood went, and neighbors covered
more territory than they do now. The raising of a medium-sized building
required about one hundred and fifty men, and their good wives went along
to help in the preparation of the dinner. The first thing on the day's
program was the raising, and not a stroke of work was done until all had
been treated to a drink of rum, the common liquor of the day. After the
frame was erected, one or two men, whose courage fitted them for the feat,
had the honor of standing erect on the ridge-pole and repeating this
rhyme:--